


anchor up to me, love

by primaryuniverse



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Morning Cuddles, Morning Kisses, Post-Canon, So much kissing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, an ode to isak's beauty, kind of, they're so in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-28 00:37:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15696609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primaryuniverse/pseuds/primaryuniverse
Summary: "I love you.”Isak’s face softens, as if he still can’t believe it. As if he still doesn’t know how much love he deserves.“So much.” Even will never stop trying to show him.“And I love you.”or: soft, morning cuddles, kisses, and love. love. love.





	anchor up to me, love

**Author's Note:**

> so, this is my first fic in. well. a year and a half. actually, the first time i've written anything at all in a year and a half (besides papers for school, and the like). so i apologize for any mess, incoherence, and general disorder this blurb has.
> 
> i really miss these boys, so i wanted to write something fluffy, both to get back into the swing of things with writing and also just so i can get all my pent-up emotions and tooth-rotting fluffy headcanons out somehow. i do have more ideas, some with a little more structure than this one, but they require work and a lot of confidence i don't really have yet.
> 
> please let me know if you like it, i hope you do. if you enjoy fluff, cuddles, kissing, morning softness and general, earth-defying love, this is the one-shot for you. thank you for reading. enjoy :)
> 
> title from anchor by novo amor.

Even wakes to the smell of him.

Isak’s warm body, pressed against his chest, arms tucked around Even, head nestled in the crook of his neck, golden curls tickling along his jaw, soft, sleep-heavy breaths huffing against his Adam’s apple, safe, safe, safe.

They keep each other safe.

The sunlight spills through the slit in the half-opened curtains, pulled sleepily closed by a tired Isak the previous night, right before his tired bones fell into Even’s outstretched arms, groaning softly but contentedly.

_“Long day, hm?”_

_A huff of laughter. Soft, warm. Just like Isak himself. “Happy to be home.”_

_Even nuzzling his nose into Isak’s hair. Isak tilting his head up. Pressing his lips against the corner of Even’s mouth – missing, huffing laughter again._

_“That tired?”_

_Isak groans, fake indignation, pulling Even closer, one hand on the back of his neck, the other curling under his shirt around his hip. Lips against lips, tugging, pulling, leaning back to breathe, tilting back for a different angle and more kisses. More, more, more. Soft, warm, lazy, and slow._

_Like clockwork._

He’s so in love, Even. He is.

Closing his heavy-lidded eyes, the morning sunlight lightening the inside of his lids to a warm, glowing red. Warmth – it’s all he feels. Warmth with his love in his arms. His heart full, beats in tandem with the soft breaths against his neck.

Isak nuzzles closer in his sleep, hands curling further, moaning softly, happily in his slumber.

Even sleeps.

* * *

“Morning, baby.” A grumbly, deep morning voice pulls him from his half-asleep daze.

How Isak knows his body is awake before even he does, amazes him. Another way they are in synch; connected, pulled towards one another, souls in perfect rhythm, harmony – love and music and warmth and light and happiness and comfort. Home.

Isak is his home.

In their sleep they’ve changed positions, still touching (aren’t they always?), but moved to lay on their sides, arms holding one another even in sleep.

Isak lies slightly lower than him on the bed, peering up at Even, half-lidded, warm green. One arm thrown lazily across Evem’s waist, fingers dancing lightly over Even’s shirt on his lower back, one arm tucked under his own pillow, hand poking out from under and slightly curled, as if begging to be held.

So Even holds.

Hand reaching up between them, intertwining their fingers, bringing his hand forward, kissing along Isak’s knuckles.

Isak huffs a breath of laughter, “Sap.”

Even smiles against his hand, free arm pulling Isak closer to his body, never close enough.

“Mm, love you.”

Isak’s face softens, still, after all these years, as if he still can’t believe it. As if he still doesn’t know how much love he deserves.

“So much.” Even will never stop trying to show him.

“And I love you.” Isak whispers, voice still hoarse from sleep, but even softer than usual, if possible, “my baby.”

Even rolls on top of him, Isak giggles and pulls him closer, their mouths finding each other’s out of pure intuition. Like clockwork.

They kiss. They roll around, and they kiss.

Lips tugging, sliding, sticking and pulling. Isaks arms sliding up and down Even’s back, pulling him even closer, always closer, by his shoulders. Legs spreading further, feet tangling, warmth, warmth, warmth.

Isak’s hands curling along the back of Even’s neck, burying themselves in his hair.

This is his favorite thing, Even. This, just this. Just being with him, with his love. His beautiful boy, sleepwarm and soft in his arms, waking him up only for him to get to experience another dream.

The kiss heats up, but neither one of them lets it go too far, always slowing down.

Hot mouths panting into one another, tongues and lips gliding slow to soft presses. Even pecks him once, twice, three times, over and over, missing his lips intentionally, guiding a trail of soft, playful kisses along his cheeks, nose, one on each eye, in between his eyebrows, along his forehead, all to warm giggles, fake sounds of protests. Isaks scrunched, grumpy face juxtaposed with his yielding hands, his lips curling into a smile, his body leaning further up, closer into Even’s arms.

Giggling.

Pulled back down to his mouth by an eager hand on the back of his neck, Even breathes out softly, lips sliding slow and warm against Isak’s, _finally_.

They both settle, breathing together. Being together.

“I love you so much,” Isak breathes over his lips, tilting his head to pull Even deeper, deeper, let Even fall even deeper.

 _I love you. I love you. You’re my everything. I love you. You’re everything_. Even wants to say, but he can’t, not when his heart is beating this quickly yet feels as restful and peaceful as it is. Because this is just _them_ , isn’t it?

They’re in love.

This is love.

So he lets his body reply, his wandering hands hold Isaks cheeks, grounding him to the angel underneath him, kissing him firmer, closer, deeper, stronger, with as much love as he can muster.

And Isak knows. Knows what he feels, he always does. He smiles against Even’s lips, fingers burying deeper in his hair.

They kiss for minutes, hours, days, weeks, years, eternity. In each other’s arms, they are infinite.

* * *

“Plans for today?” Even asks, perched on the counter-top with a warm cup of tea in his hands, watching Isak putter around the kitchen.

He’s taken up cooking these past few months, and now jumps at the opportunity to cook his boyfriend meals – breakfast being his favorite, of course.

“Maybe catch a film with Jonas and Eva. I don’t know – here, taste this” outstretched spatula with some sort of egg concoction on the end. Flashback to years ago, shitty pop music on the radio, _I’ve never felt anything like this before_.

Even takes a bite, hums and nods in his approval, giving a thumbs up while wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Good? Or are you just saying that?” Isak asks, still a hint of insecurity in his voice despite trumpeting around his master-chef skills at every opportunity.

“Good, baby. Very yummy.”

Smiles. “Good,” turning back to the stove, turning off the heat, moving things around some more, “I love you.”

“And I love you. C’mere.”

Isak yields immediately, always does.

Abandoning the dirty spatula on the countertop next to the stove, stepping in between Even’s legs, hands finding the tops of his thighs, head tilted up, eyes lidded and soft and warm and in love.

Their lips find each other.

And Even will never understand how he got so lucky. Isak standing here, in his arms, golden hair illuminated by the sunlight peering in through their kitchen window.

 _Their_ kitchen. Their home. Their love, their hearts, holding one another until the end of time. _How many Isak and Evens are lying like this right now? Infinite._ They love. In every universe, forever.

They love.

And they kiss, like they always do.


End file.
